Of telling of the wandering ways by which we gathered here together.
If some who prate of paupers' ways, their tantrums, or their love of snuffing,
Their fretting at cold, hard-fast rules, their fancy for sly bacca-puffing,
Could only scan the paupers' past a little closer than their mode is,
They'd learn that still some sparks of soul burn in those broken-down old bodies.
And soul does kick at iron rules, and icy ways. Old blood runs chilly,
And craves the heat, of love, fire, pipe, to warm it up like. Very silly,
No doubt, from Bumble's point of view! Here we're held human, though so humble;
And, Heaven be blessed!—at Nazareth House we've never known the rule of Bumble.
The very old and very young are much alike in many a matter;